


Same Old Benji

by Kerry_0506



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, can be shippy or just friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerry_0506/pseuds/Kerry_0506
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the dust settles, two broken men meet with the hopes of mending one another. Though it's a little difficult when one of them won't talk and the other has become numb. - AKA how I would love to see Mission 6 start out. We can always dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Old Benji

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot on how I would have Mission Impossible 6 start if I was writing it. I hope you enjoy!

The bar was rather empty, only a few tables in use but there was still a slight buzz in the room, which was a little too familiar. It may not have been a restaurant on the Thames and there was definitely no hefty pressure against his chest like there had been that night, but if he closed his eyes and just listened, he was sure that he would find himself back there. 

It had been almost two months since they had taken Lane down and Benji was certain that he was getting better. Whether it was a case of he was actually on the mend or just the thought process of ‘if I say it enough times, I’ll convince myself’ was unclear, but it was what he chose to say whenever someone asked how he was coping. He still found himself waking up in cold sweats at unearthly hours, still woke with the sound of Ethan’s name on his lips after seeing the world around him bursting into a deadly mixture of fire and debris, taking his friend out with it. He still couldn’t avoid the spike in his heart rate whenever he found himself in a crowded place, still could not find it in himself venture into a train station – he was certain that his petrol costs had risen threefold at least due to his decision to drive everywhere these days. He was also still seeing the IMF counsellor, much to his irritation. He had never really been one for talking about things, not even when his first serious relationship had gone down the toilet. It just wasn’t him. He was more of a ‘push it down and ignore it until I forget it ever happened’ kind of guy and he was content being that way, so when Ethan had insisted that he take sessions with the counsellor, he of course put up a fight. He had insisted that he was fine, that he didn’t need to talk to anyone about it. Brandt had then chimed in (because Brandt seemed to like getting the last word, especially in their frequent ‘football/soccer’ debate), reminding him that IMF medical had ordered him too on the suspicion of PTSD and, in an effort to get them off his back, he reluctantly agreed. 

It wasn’t quite as bad as he had predicted it to be. At least this woman did not try to pressure him into saying anything that he did not want to. Though he still could not stop thinking about the first session which had ended rather abruptly when he had suffered a panic attack so severe that the next thing he knew, he was on the ground with the counsellor and Ethan (where the hell he had come from still baffled him) kneeling over him. So that wasn’t the best start. But he was getting better. He could at least talk about what happened now without falling into some kind of attack, which to him was certainly progress. But he still was not right and that frustrated him. 

“Started without me, I see.” The familiar voice jolted him from his thoughts and he looked up from his half-finished beer to see a pair of green eyes staring down at him. 

“Considering how late you are, I’d have been a fool not to.” Benji replied, lips twitching into a half smile as he motioned for Ethan to join him in the booth he had grabbed them. “Was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” 

“I know. I’m a terrible date.” Ethan replied, sliding into the seat and getting settled. “Julia always used to say the same.” Benji could not help laughing at the comment and he watched as Ethan ordered himself a drink with a passing server. Once the man had walked away, Ethan turned back to the younger agent. “So how’re you doing?” 

“Oh, you know me. Same old Benji. Though, technically same old Benji with a brand new games console, so that’s something fun.” Benji replied, taking a sip from his beer. He felt Ethan’s eyes on him but he simply ignored the feeling of him waiting. “What about you? The IMF still on your back about Morocco?” That’s it, Benji. Changing the topic is what you’re good at. “I dunno about official statistics but surely you must be the agent with the highest rate of totals. How are you still allowed to use their cars?” 

Ethan chuckled. “I’m certainly not going to argue with you there. I do still feel bad about that.” Ethan was smiling, yet there was seriousness about his eyes that showed that he was not joking. He could still remember the moment he had turned to check on Benji and seen the way he was unmoving, unconscious and in a position that could have very easily caused far more damage than it did. All of his attempts to keep Benji safe on that mission had been botched and that was not something that he had been able to just forget. “But you’re right. I do know you, ‘same old Benji’. And I know when you’re avoiding things. So let me try that again. How are you doing?”

Benji sighed, dropping his gaze as he ran his fingertip gently around the rim of his glass. He was grateful for the extra moment of time that was given to him when the server returned with Ethan’s drink, though it lasted no more than two seconds and then he felt Ethan’s eyes on him once more. 

“I’m getting there.” He replied, honestly. “It’s taking more time than I hoped, which is rather annoying. But I’m still going to the sessions, just like you wanted.” 

“I know you have.” 

“You know? Been checking in on me?” Benji raised an eyebrow as he looked at the other agent. 

“Well… _You_ know _me_. Gotta make sure my agents are doing ok.” Ethan replied, smirking. “But I promise, all that I know is that you’ve attended. Nothing about what you’ve talked about or anything else.”

“Oh good. So you still have some sense of confidentiality then.” Benji chuckled, shaking his head a little. “How do you do it? Just…. I dunno, just move past things. You never really seem to be affected by everything that happens.” He wanted to know how Ethan did it, maybe then he could understand how to move on from his ordeal. He observed as Ethan glanced down at where his hand was wrapped around the cool glass on the table, the way his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed; a clear indicator of when the older man was deep in thought. Silence fell over them for a few moments and Benji could not take his eyes off Ethan, watching as if he could see his mind actually ticking over. “There has to be something you can tell me, Ethan. Please. Some kind of advice on how to stop these things effecting me.”

“There isn’t, Benj.” Ethan’s voice was flat as he spoke, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a large gulp. He placed it down once more and picked up the beer mat, toying with it between his fingers. 

“But-”

“There isn’t any way to… To keep away the nightmares, to stop the flashbacks.” He lifted his head and looked over at Benji, meeting his gaze. “When you’ve been doing this job for as long as I have, Benji, you just become numb to it. You never get used to it happening, never come to terms with the sound of a friend being crushed or slowly bleeding to death over the comms… You don’t stop being terrified when you turn around in a crowded train station and see that someone you care about has gone missing. You just start to shut down.” Benji fell silent at Ethan’s words, breaking eye contact to look at the table, searching the patterns in the wood. “I was late today because I was getting some sleep. Because I was up half the night since every time I closed my eyes, I saw you at that table, I saw the fear in your eyes as he controlled your words. Believe me, these things do still get to me. I just know now how to hide it.” 

“I… I’m sorry, Ethan.” The tech’s voice was soft as he spoke up. 

“No, Benji, there’s no need for you to be sorry. You have nothing to apologise for, it’s completely natural to want to find a way to work through this. But I promise you, you will. And you’ve got all of us here right beside you.” Ethan reached over and placed his hand on top of where Benji’s lay on the table and gave a small squeeze, a small smile gracing his lips when Benji looked his way. 

“Thanks, Ethan.” 

Before anything else could be said, Ethan’s phone buzzed in his pocket and the agent tugged it out to read the message. 

“Ah… Always a buzzkill.” 

“Lemme guess.” Benji said, leaning back in his spot. “William Brandt.” 

“Got it in one. Hunley wants us in for a briefing in fifteen. Bottoms up.” Ethan lifted his glass and tapped it against Benji’s. 

“Cheers.”


End file.
